


Miz Crooke - Non-chron ficlets

by she_who_dares



Series: Miz Crooke [6]
Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Drabbles, M/M, Out-takes, Requests, prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-05-31 04:57:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19418944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/she_who_dares/pseuds/she_who_dares
Summary: Plotting out the whole story arc with Saiph, I realised there was a whole ton of stuff I wanted to write, but some of which wouldn't necessarily work with the main story, or they would, but but might interrupt the flow by making it go on for too long. This will be the opportunity to share those pieces with you in a tidier way :)





	1. 30. "It's not what it looks like!"

**Author's Note:**

> All pieces fit within the Miz Crooke universe unless otherwise stated. All pieces will say where they fit, as they may not appear in time order.
> 
> Please add in the comments if you have any requests or prompts you'd like me to attempt. I'm fandomfeministe on tumblr - if you hit my 'writing prompts' tag and see something you're interested in, let me know and I'll work around it! Drabble/story extract suggestions especially welcome.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cracker and Brooke attempt an intimate moment during the s11 tour, but someone interrupts...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt chosen by aqalbatross, to give me something to write while the Cricket World Cup final related adrenaline was still going. Thanks a lot - this was really fun to write!

The Season 11 tour was in full swing, and while Cracker was on his post-AS5 enforced break, he’d taken himself off to visit with his lover. Lover in the literal sense, it could be argued now, as he and Brooke had finally admitted their feelings to each other in the weekend after he’d finished the competition, ensconced in an anonymous hotel room (Cracker’s), somewhere in Los Angeles. Friends with benefits, they were not. Not anymore.

In another time, and another anonymous hotel room (this one Brooke’s), two mismatched looking men in their thirties were sitting wrapped around each other on a couch. The taller of the two - long, blond and with the elegant physique of a dancer - was leaning backwards, almost flat on his back as the smaller man paid careful attention to his most sensitive spots. He faced the door, the deceptively muscular man controlling his ability to move by pinning him with his thighs, and the delighted noises escaping the back of his throat showed that he was definitely in approval of proceedings.

The problem was, of course, that when you were so keen on getting right into the spirit of things with your partner, you weren’t always as diligent as you should be about properly closing the door.

-x-

Some two hours after the show had ended, and with some of the girls simply too tired to go out that night, Silky Nutmeg Ganache was on the hunt. For adventure, for laughs, and most importantly for a sister who would still be awake enough to come and help her find the first two things. Akeria had crashed right after the gig, so that was an instant no. Vanjie had slipped away to make a booty call to the new guy she was seeing, so the other Dreamgirl was a no-go too. Nearest along the hall, then, was Brooke’s room, from which a crack of light shone through the slightly open door. Putting her hand on it to push it open - it appeared a hastily discarded shoe had been enough to prevent it from closing - she was about to call out, when she instead caught an eyeful of something she definitely hadn’t had any intention of seeing.

“It’s not what it looks like!!!”

Brooke’s half panicked, half surprised cry was matched in volume only by Silky’s high pitched call of horror, somehow not waking up half of their floor in the process. He’d caught sight of the shorter queen in the reflection of the hotel room’s mirror, the realisation that she’d seen him about to fuck Cracker into the couch cushions coming much too late. Fortunately for the latter’s modesty, he’d been leaving over him in a way that hid his body from view, long enough for Cracker to grab a cushion to hide his midsection. Unfortunately for his own, his jeans and underwear had already been pulled down, giving Silky quite the show.

“Not what it looks like? Biiiitch, you got a Drag Race sister under you while I get a full face of your lily-white ass!” she exclaimed, holding up her hands in surrender. “I don’t need to know the details… just let me pretend I didn’t see you two hoes about to go at it!” she declared, beginning to slowly back out of the room, creeping with the faux-stealthiness of someone secretly fully enjoying the future opportunity to mock their sister.

When she had eventually closed the door after her, Cracker finally managed to gather his nerves to speak.

“Well, I guess that’s one more person who knows…”


	2. Prompt 26 - "Hey, I got you a present"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brooke finds that the shittier side of fandom is getting her down. Cracker does her best to cheer her up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Hey, I got you a present.”
> 
> For the anon who requested this prompt, without a pairing - which means you’re getting Crooke, because of course you are ;) Prompt is #26 from this list (requests still open!): https://fandomfeministe.tumblr.com/post/186238982768/send-me-a-pairing-and-a-number-and-ill-write-you
> 
> Time for you to own up, anon!
> 
> Drabble set in mid July, 2019

Brooke wasn’t usually one for letting random assholes on the internet get her down - though feeding the trolls was something she’d been known to indulge in from time to time - but this was one of those days where the negativity had led to her getting into her own head. In front of her for much of the last hour was a link she’d been sent, ‘helpfully’, by a fan on twitter with video footage of the latest Season 11 gig - where she and Vanjie had jokingly kissed on stage and the younger queen had hidden under her dress. Underneath, while there were lots of cute, shipping messages, it was clear that there was still a large section of the fandom that was less over the breakup than they themselves were.

_“Ugh, she needs to leave Vanjie alone”_

_“I’m so over Brooke using Vanjie for attention”_

_“People need to stop hiring that hag Brooke Lynn”_

All these comments and more were filling her screen, figuratively at least, Brooke’s anxious brain giving them more attention than they clearly deserved. And while she was dwelling on them, her lover had been watching, his face full of concern. They may not have been anything serious - it was still too early for that, Cracker thought - but seeing the pain that Brooke was going through as she took the blame for how the Branjie mess had ended was rough on him, too.

“Hey, I got you a present.”

Brooke looked up, the interruption from her lover not expected.

“Huh?”

“A present,” Cracker repeated, holding out a folded piece of paper and letting it drop into Brooke’s lap. “Read it, then come find me when you’re ready, OK?” With those words, and a kiss on the cheek, he disappeared to the balcony.

_“What I love about B”_ Brooke began to read, flattening the paper over his leg.

_“I love the way you smile when you see me dance, even though dance is your thing;_   
_I love the high pitch to your giggle when you can’t help but be free,_   
_I love the way you cheer every dumbass thing I say on stage,_   
_I love the way I can be myself around you, because you get me._

_You hold the umbrella while we walk down the street so I don’t get wet;_   
_You make me feel cherished, like I’m worth having,_   
_You have the biggest heart when you don’t even know it,_   
_You throw me around like I’m the tiniest thing._

_To me you mean comfort, where I can relax_   
_To me you’re the anchor when I need to roam_   
_To me you’re the one who won’t laugh at my cheese_   
_Because to me, B, you feel like home._

_Hope you smile soon, babe._   
_Cracks_   
_X”_

The paper still clutched in one hand, Brooke followed Cracker’s lead out to the balcony and slid her arms around his waist.

“And people say you’re no romantic sap…”


	3. 50. "We need to get a lock for that door."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brooke, Cracker, and a scene of domestic 'bliss'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Written when my main-fic just wasn’t happening, because fuck it. Cute kid related fluff, based on the following prompt list. Taken: 14, 22, 25, 26, 30, 50. Hit me up with any more!
> 
> https://fandomfeministe.tumblr.com/post/186238982768/send-me-a-pairing-and-a-number-and-ill-write-you

The evening was no different than most in the Heller-Hayhoe household. A regimented checklist - Cracker’s, surprising no-one - had been followed as time progressed. Firstly, the two youngest members of the family had been collected from their daycare and preschool respectively, their dads having spent time at rehearsals for the last few hours. Being reunited was always a happy moment, tiny feet tottering towards the owners of much larger ones, the size of their smiles being much the same.

Secondly, upon their arrival back home, it was time for the aforementioned little ones to be fed, the seemingly abundant energy dipping, each falling asleep in the back of the car. The feline members of the household were fed at the same time, the kitchen of the New York apartment a hive of activity as the queens-in-residence swapped places to perform their parental duties. It was, Brooke observed with amusement, unclear who was the messiest eater in the room; baby Connor - mushed vegetables down his front as he laughed at an exasperated Cracker - or the two cats gobbling down their food in the corner of the room.

Thirdly, Cracker took Connor back to his room - something Brooke always smiled at seeing. A warmth filled him when he saw their son’s dark head resting on his husband’s shoulder as he drifted off to sleep, the four month old an image of his Dad in miniature. It was, this time, Brooke’s own turn to be the Cool Daddy, the one who played games with Hannah in the living room, watching just one of her shows, and then reading her a bedtime story. Dad did better voices, according to the three year old, but Daddy was the one who would swing her around in silly recreations of the adventures in her storybooks.

Finally, with their children in bed, the two queens would have their alone time. Tonight, it was curling up together in bed with a glass of wine, talking over the events of the day and how their respective rehearsals were going, before taking advantage of the quiet that now crept over the apartment. Kisses became caresses, caresses became more lingering touches, and before long, things were getting heated. It wasn’t until Brooke’s head disappeared under the covers, however, that the pounding of small feet could be heard down the hallway, coming in what sounded suspiciously like their direction. Looking at each other, the two men groaned.

“We  _ need _ to get a lock on that door.”

  
  
  



End file.
